The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] - Chapter 796

Capítulo 796: When the Dots Connected

It started subtly.

So subtly that most people didn’t even realize anything strange was happening until it became too obvious to ignore.

As if nudged awake by the weirdly familiar phrase “cooking lessons,” casual-looking but suspiciously well-curated posts began popping up across Star Net.

There were photos of kitchens.

Well-lit spaces, expensive ones, cozy-looking ones, and surprisingly similar appliances in matching colors. But anyone who looked closely would realize that even the placement of everything was strikingly alike.

But how could they possibly differ when the elites made it their life’s mission to get even the angles right just so they could guarantee the same taste and experience.

One particular noble who had once sold a summer villa in exchange for property that would be able to accommodate a kitchen had uploaded a selfie with her beloved oven.

The caption read: “Practice makes perfect.”

It didn’t matter that all she could cook were baked potatoes, fries, eggs, and increasingly questionable variations of those same dishes.

At this point, she was a connoisseur.

Especially when a frightening number of people had not even known cooking at that scale existed until minutes ago.

And yet, that was only the surface.

Because beneath the harmless photos and innocent pride, a veiled revolution was quietly approaching.

Several sharp-eyed individuals had already begun to notice that something was wrong. Or perhaps too right.

For the fortunate elite who had clung tightly to their hunches for months, carefully maintaining their memberships and refusing to ask questions that might cause trouble or increase competition, the feeling was unmistakable.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Soon, people would connect the dots.

And sure enough, in a very specific corner of Star Net, one dedicated to the Empire’s most beloved vendor, the whispers began.

[Forum Thread: Vendor 11820251002 General Discussion]

[Um. Maybe I’m just going crazy but doesn’t it seem familiar?]

[I thought it was just me. Please continue.]

[Okay so. You know how streamer Dylan has those tutorial videos where he makes omelettes?]

[Yes?]

[+1]

[+1]

[+1]

[Has anyone noticed the eggs look exactly like the ones the cadet pulled out of those chickens?]

[Wait]

[Hold on.]

[I definitely watched that tutorial a hundred times…]

[Upstairs commenter, me too. But now I realize I was too distracted to question where the eggs came from.]

[Same. I was focused on the pan technique.]

[But now that you mention it…]

[+1]

[+1]

[+1]

The thread stalled.

Only briefly.

[Also. Jax mentioned chips.]

[Doesn’t that sound familiar? Like the ones sold by the Star Mall Vendor?]

[And the potatoes.]

[Are we talking about the potatoes used for the fries? What’s the difference if it’s a baby?]

Someone posted a comparison image.

Another posted timestamps on the tutorials.

A third quietly deleted their earlier comment and returned with screenshots.

Some began to realize that while they knew about those relics, they had never actually questioned where they came from. It simply never occurred to them that spiritual relics could be farmed.

Because farming relics sounds insane.

Another user chimed in hesitantly.

[Also. The grilled tomato sandwich.]

[What about it?]

[One of the ingredients is cheese.]

[The cadet literally said there was cheese at the minimart.]

A momentary pause followed.

Then the thread refreshed, and everything exploded.

Screenshots flooded in.

Clips were reposted.

Tutorial videos were replayed with new, horrifying clarity.

Just what exactly was the relationship between the Dungeon Guardians and their so-called saint, Vendor 11820251002?

And more importantly.

What did that mean for the Empire?

__

While the livestream and Star Net forums were erupting with wild conjectures and increasingly unhinged photos of homemade food that would have sent half the Empire’s leadership straight to the medical bay if they had not already been part of the planning, a very different atmosphere settled inside the greenhouse.

The gathered attendees murmured among themselves as they stared at Reeve.

Not with hostility.

Not with anger.

But with the quiet, unnerving fascination usually reserved for newly discovered alien life forms or anyone who had won that famed jackpot prize.

Reeve tried not to sweat.

Thankfully, the smiling cadet stepped in before the poor journalist could be dissected on the spot.

“No worries for everyone who won’t be able to join the in-house cooking sessions,” Jax said cheerfully. “There are holographic pamphlets near the exit. You can scan them and they will link you to tutorial videos for a few common dishes you might want to try with the crops you picked.”

The tension eased slightly.

“Also,” he added thoughtfully, “I will try my best to teach you how you can eat some of them as is. But just a fair warning early on, please don’t eat raw potatoes just to be safe. Especially if they look green or have sprouted parts.”

The cadet tried to show them photos of the potatoes that shouldn’t be eaten. Healthcare was so advanced that it may not be a problem, but it wouldn’t really taste good! Moreover, those tubers could be planted for even more potatoes!

Several adults stiffened.

A few quietly repeated the words under their breath.

“Cooking breaks down the toxins and the resistant starch,” Jax continued, “and it definitely improves the flavor when prepared properly.”

Everyone looked at one another.

Those words were being etched directly into memory.

Meanwhile, to the children, everything the great big brother had said sounded like the kind of sacred knowledge that should be recited before bed. Daily.

The kids were like hawks. If Jax so much as bent his knees, the children would spontaneously imitate him. Because what if such a movement were part of an important harvest ritual?!

__

This was especially true for a child named Milo, a young child who never imagined that going to the expo would result in such an experience.

Since winning the Greenhouse Farm Tour and dragging his parents along as his official guardians, Milo had already reshuffled his future plans.

A soldier and a farmer.

Cadet Jackson Taylor was both.

And apparently the other members of that really cool guild were somehow the same or even more.

How could Milo not want to be just as cool when cool people get to do so many cool things?!

If he had been vaguely interested before, now that they were being taught how to do it themselves, his mind was completely made up.

Milo vibrated where he stood as the great farmer introduced them to the small yet alluring red fruits.

Jax explained brightly, “Packed with vitamins and nutrients, these can be eaten plain, with cream, in salads, or used as toppings for desserts. They can also be preserved and used in drinks because they’re really sweet and juicy.”

The way he spoke made mouths water.

The way he smiled made it feel achievable.

For soldiers and civilians alike, people who had grown up hearing stories about risking life and limb on uncharted planets just to obtain a single spiritual relic, it felt unreal that such simple instructions were being given so casually.

They somehow couldn’t believe that they could just walk up to something so unreal.

Then Jax gestured everyone closer.

He pointed at one particularly ripe berry, bright and glossy beneath the lights.

“As I mentioned earlier, damaged plants will not produce as much next harvest. And damaged berries will not stay fresh for long when stored. So you need to harvest properly because it would benefit everyone including you.”

The gathered attendees leaned in.

“A good way to tell if one is ripe,” Jax continued, “is to check whether it’s fully red and fragrant.”

“And by fully, I mean red everywhere.”

He gently tilted the berry upward.

“Look at the tip. This is usually the last part that ripens. If any part is still white, leave it for tomorrow instead of forcing it.”

Milo held his breath.

“But if it’s red all the way through,” Jax said, “then grab the stem about an inch above where it connects to the fruit.”

He demonstrated slowly for everyone to see, waiting patiently as everyone started craning their necks.

“Then give it a gentle twist and pull.”

The berry came free.

Gasps rippled through the group as Jax held it up like a treasure.

Then he walked to a nearby table with a small sink.

“We don’t use pesticides,” he said casually, “but you can practice washing them like this before eating just to be safe.”

Water ran.

The berry gleamed.

And then, to Milo’s absolute horror and awe, Jax took a bite.

The sweet scent burst into the air.

“!!!”

Everyone froze.

Milo nearly screamed.

Jax grinned, completely unbothered as he nodded in clear satisfaction.

“So,” he asked, looking around brightly, “are those who want to pick strawberries ready?”

Milo had never been more ready in his very short life.

Then again, he was far more prepared than the netizens watching from afar, who were currently losing their minds in utter, helpless envy.